


Only Slightly Soiled

by Rubynye



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles's worst day of work ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Slightly Soiled

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/5215.html?thread=6364255#t6364255): _Charles makes a living as a rent boy but actually uses his telepathic powers to make people think that he is serving them (like how Emma did in the movie). Erik... would really rather he stop. Charles doesn't until something goes wrong one night, illusion almost becomes reality. Erik saves him._
> 
> Title from Cole Porter & Billie Holliday's "[Love For Sale](http://www.lyricstime.com/cole-porter-love-for-sale-lyrics.html)"

Right now, Charles is not fully present in this moment. At least he greets tonight's client fairly decently, with a sweet, engaging smile and slightly lingering kisses, just as Emma taught him. During what passed for his on-the-job training, she told him more than once, "When you're working, honey, be there in the moment. Nothing turns a john off, or makes him get violent, as quick as the tiniest whiff of boredom."

Like Emma herself, the words are pragmatic and memorable, and as Charles strolls into the lounge, letting his teeth shine and pretending to listen to whatever-his-name-is -- Stephen? Jonathan? -- ramble on self-importantly, he wishes he could still ask her for her advice.

"Let me get you a drink," says -- Charles really can't remember. Sullivan? Christian? -- flashing his own white teeth, and Charles agrees gratefully as he leans back against the bar, glad for a moment alone to give in to his distraction. It's not every bus ride that a rentboy, leaning his head on his boyfriend's shoulder because today they're working in the same hotel, hears drift into his mind, _I wish you would come live with me. I could take care of you._

Charles had blinked, closing his hand around Erik's. The wheezing bus was crammed full of shouting people, they were lucky to have found seats together, but at least they could converse through his gift. _Do you mean that? Truly?_ If Erik were just fantasizing, Charles was prepared to let it go --

Erik turned to look at him, a pale determined glow in his seawater eyes. "Of course," he said fiercely, clear in Charles's head and the shape of his mouth despite the noise blotting out his voice. _Of course. Everything I have is yours._

 _I love you so much,_ Charles thought back, shutting his eyes, _and with your love for me, that's most of what we'd have between us. I couldn't ask you to feed and house me on a bellboy's pay, you can barely make your rent as is._

He could feel Erik's scowl even though he couldn't see it, could feel Erik's long fingers tremble as his hand twisted around to grip Charles's wrist. _You could ask me anything, if it would mean you would stop selling yourself._ The thought vibrated with frustrated, angry worry.

 _Not this again now, please._ Charles thought a kiss to Erik, the phantom tingle of lip brushing lip. _I don't want to fight with you right before work. I don't want to fight with you, ever._

Erik exhaled a huff, almost a snort, but he leaned his forehead against Charles's, tangling their fingers as he answered, _I know._

In the present, in this hotel lounge, Charles's client swaggers back to him, drinks in hand as he ever so casually drapes himself against Charles from shoulder to ankle. "Here you are," he purrs, and he _is_ handsome, nicely put together, but ... but it's not Charles's place to wonder why someone would choose to make a date with him, unless it matters to what they want during it. He clinks glasses and takes a hefty swallow, letting the burn make him cough to see if -- Sebastian, that's his name, to see if he laughs.

Sebastian does laugh with delighted scorn, and Charles shrugs, making a mental note. "I wonder if you'd have something more to my taste up in your room," he asks, licking his lips to renew their gloss, swinging his lashes down, and glances up to find Sebastian leaning in even closer.

"Our barkeep might not be so happy to hear you don't like his liquor," Sebastian answers, but his gaze is on Charles's mouth, and when Charles licks his lips again and smiles Sebastian stands up, gathering Charles with a hand on the small of his back, pressing so hard it's almost a push. "But I think I do."

Charles widens his smile and leads Sebastian to the elevator. He prefers to make the first real move there, to ask with words and find in thoughts what his client wants, using the duration of the ride to plan how he'll fulfill those desires. Besides, it makes a good escape route if necessary, just by jumping back in at the right moment. Unfortunately, this elevator is jammed with other guests, and when Charles retreats from the press of minds he finds himself again considering Erik's offer.

The problem is, he'd love to take it. To leave behind his grouchy, slovenly roommates, to go to sleep and wake up beside Erik every night and morning, to make sure Erik eats and to warm his feet as he studies -- Charles would love nothing better. But without this lucrative job he won't be able to afford to fill Erik's fridge, let alone his sister Raven's. Her husband Hank is likely to be the next Einstein, if Charles can keep them from starving until Hank gets his doctorate.

No, he thinks, letting the burly man beside him push him up against Sebastian's crisply tailored side, he needs to keep this job. Besides, with his talent it's not so bad; Charles prefers to wind his awareness into his clients' minds, showing them in full sensory technicolor the fantasy they want to live out with him while he waits comfortably in a chair or on the side of the bed. Since he's not telekinetic he needs to do the ensuing cleanup by hand, but their imaginations do more than half the work for him and he barely has to touch them, usually only has to kiss them hello and goodbye.

When Erik discovered Charles' listing he told him about these chosen methods, desperate to erase the horror from his eyes; he joked, "I'm practically monogamous!" and Erik scowled, but grudgingly let Charles kiss him, then kissed back so roughly Charles moaned. Charles can feel the phantom of that bruising kiss whenever he remembers it, can't forget Erik's silent question, _Do you do that to me? How could I ever tell?_

Charles never would, not to Erik. "I'm much too selfish," he answered, "and you're much too gorgeous," and Erik gave him a better smile than he deserved, broad and bittersweet, and kissed him again.

Now Charles bolsters himself with the memory of Erik's smile as the elevator lurches to a stop and his head seems to spin, doubtless from the close quarters. Sebastian steers him through the crush, then takes the hall at somewhere between a stride and a jog, so Charles almost has to run to keep up. Eager's usually good, it can mean a nice big tip, but something about this particular variety, as Sebastian puffs in anticipation and nearly fumbles the door key, makes Charles a little uneasy.

Maybe he's coming down with something; he still feels dizzy, and suddenly tired. But this shouldn't take all that long, considering the hunger in Sebastian's glittering eyes as he paces across the room, pulling Charles along. He doesn't often do so, because it seems to cross a line of dishonesty, but Charles considers meddling with Sebastian's time sense to stretch a few minutes into appearing to be the contracted hour. He shakes his head -- he really does feel wobbly -- and lays a hand on Sebastian's suitcoated chest as he asks, "So, what would you like tonight?"

Having asked, Charles looks for the answer, into Sebastian's eyes and behind them.

What he sees, closing in around him --

 _Charles shaking, bleeding, bruised and limp as Sebastian fucks him so hard his whole body shakes, bruises purple and bites red along his throat and shoulders as Sebastian grins and sinks broad bright teeth into the flesh of his cheek, as Charles whimpers and every noise of pain pulses down Sebastian's spine and into his cock --_

Heart pounding, Charles jerks back but staggers, and Sebastian catches him by the wrist and shoulder. His knees giving under his own weight, Charles tries to shove away with hands and mind, but his thoughts won't focus, clouding over like fog is condensing inside his head. His legs fold and Sebastian chuckles, pushing Charles back so he flops onto the bed.

His arms won't move, his legs have gone boneless, his eyelids weigh a ton each. Charles belatedly realizes, as Sebastian's grin fills his darkening vision, that he didn't pay enough attention, that he's let himself be drugged. He opens his mouth but he can't push any words out, he tries by thought to order Sebastian away but his mind is clogged, he stares helplessly at the sleek hair above Sebastian's ear as Sebastian leans in for a kiss full of painfully sharp teeth.

"There you are," Sebastian rumbles, grasping Charles by the ankles and rolling him onto his face on the bed. "My pretty boy. What would I like tonight?" Fingers digging into Charles's shoulder, he rolls Charles over again and Charles is too weak to keep his arm from getting caught beneath his back; Sebastian yanks it free, squeezing hard as he arranges Charles like an unstrung marionette. "I want you to whimper for me. I want you to bleed." He takes Charles's collar in both hands and rips his shirt open so buttons ping around the room. "Look at all this beautiful skin." Sebastian leans in, inhaling lasciviously, and bites down hard between Charles's neck and shoulder, crushing pressure and searing ache; Charles's mouth falls open under the radiating pain as he tries to scream, but all that bubbles up is a choked whimper.

"Mmm." Sebastian kisses the bite, even the brush of lips painful against the bruised skin. "Just like that. But we're getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we?" He stands, patting Charles's cheek, and Charles's entire body feels made of lead, he lies inert as Sebastian paces around him, undoing tie and buttons, undressing methodically. As Sebastian strips, piece by piece, he rambles on with his same self-absorption, but this time all Charles can do is listen to every last word as his skin crawls and prickles over his limp body.

"You see, little Charlie, I've been looking for you. I took a hotel room once, some cold lonely night -- " Charles hears cloth rustle as Sebastian gestures, but his left eye's shut completely and his right is sinking closed. "I looked out my window at the world below me, and guess what I saw in the room across the way? A man and a boy, such a pretty boy." Sebastian's fingertips land on Charles's chest, nails digging in and raking four burning lines from collarbones to navel as Charles struggles to shout and makes a weak little breathy sound. "The boy sat at his ease while the man rolled around like an idiot, fucking thin air, and that's when I realized he wasn't just very pretty but very special indeed." Broad hands grip Charles's feet as Sebastian pries his shoes off, and they hit the floor with twinned thumps. "So clever he can hypnotize everyone into thinking they're getting what they want," as Sebastian rips Charles's trousers open and peels them off his legs, as Charles's heart bangs against his ribs and his arms won't even twitch. "Except for me. I'm going to take it."

Sebastian climbs up to crouch over Charles, the heat off his naked body washing over Charles's bare skin. Charles shoves at his eyelids but they won't even open, but he can see the broad grin in his thoughts as Sebastian pants over him harshly as any predator. "What I want, little Charlie," Sebastian rumbles, dragging his rough hands up Charles's sides and pushing them down his scored chest, leaving goosepimples in their wake, "is the particular pleasure of raping a whore."

His heart pounding as if it would flee on its own, his lungs pressed down by the drug's invisible weight, Charles sees red sparks beneath his eyelids as he shudders under Sebastian's mauling. Exhaling little groans of pleasure, Sebastian bites Charles slowly under his ear, an ever-tightening crush of teeth as he squeezes handfuls of flesh along Charles' ribs and thighs, his hips and ass; adrenaline pulses through Charles's blood but his body lies like a slab, even when Sebastian pushes his thighs apart, nestling between them, his hard cock pressed hotly against Charles's flaccid one.

Still as a statue, Charles spasms internally in panic. He can't move and Sebastian's all over him, he can't focus enough to use his gift, there's nothing he can do --

 _Erik_. Just as despair reaches to engulf him, Charles's mind brushes Erik's, bored and worried and loving several flights below. _ERIK!_ he calls, trying to fight his way through the fog and the pain, _Erik, please, help me!_ There's a flash of _something_ in return -- alarm, awareness -- drowned out by a vicious bite to Charles's nipple that makes his shut eyes burn with agonized tears.

"Oh, I could just eat you up," Sebastian murmurs, and kisses the tip of Charles's nose. "But then I couldn't fuck you!" He shifts back a little, only to give himself room to grope Charles, prodding him with a hard finger. "What a tight little pucker," he says, pushing until the dull ache crackles to burning. "Locked up like a virgin. Let's break down the door."

 _No,_ Charles thinks, hearing himself wheeze as Sebastian's weight settles on his chest and belly, as Sebastian pushes his thighs apart till his hips creak. _No, no, no--_

A loud bang rattles the door. "What the --" Sebastian's says before the door rips open on a rush of air, slamming into the wall with a creaking thud.

Erik's mind blazes in Charles's thoughts, a flame burning away the fog. "You! Get away from him!" Erik shouts, and Sebastian shouts too in wordless surprise as his watch hand pulls away from Charles's skin and he tumbles over Charles's splayed limbs, rolling right off the bed. That leaves Charles sprawled out obscenely under the empty air, and he could almost be embarrassed but he's too busy being relieved.

Then Sebastian laughs, chilling Charles's guts, and when Erik charges in Sebastian knocks him backwards all the way across the hall. "It's the little bellhop!" he purrs, pushing himself up by the mattress. He must be like them, Charles realizes dizzily, like him and Erik, someone with an extranormal ability. "If you've come to take out my trash again you've arrived a bit early this time. Why don't you run along now?"

As if Charles couldn't feel any more ill. This is the guest Erik told him about, haunted-eyed after his worst day at work ever, the man who shoved a beaten, crying girl into his hands and ordered him to 'get rid of that for me, would you, there's a good lad.' When Erik abandoned his shift to take her to the hospital his bosses docked what pay he'd earned, and since then he's been twice as worried about Charles's job. Now not only has Charles neglectfully made Erik's nightmare come true, he's dragged him into danger as well.

Charles can't feel his body anymore, darkness seeping into his mind, but he can feel Erik stagger to his feet, feel the pain down the side of his face and the magnetic hum as he tugs at all the metal in the room. "No," he growls, flinging whatever he can grab at Sebastian -- the lamp, the phone, the pens from the desk -- but Sebastian swats them out of the air and Charles feels Erik's chill-hot flare of fear.

"Whatever happened to 'service with a smile'? You could take a lesson from this charming little thing." Sebastian pats Charles's ankle, and Charles trembles along with Erik's shudder of terrified rage. "Did you come up here for him? If you leave now you can have him back when I'm done with him. Or you can stay, and when I'm done with you you'll be in no shape to worry about yourself, let alone your pretty boy." Charles feels a hot surge of energy down Sebastian's nerves, the prickling heat in his hands as he calls upon his own ability, and knows that he can't let Sebastian touch Erik again.

So he reaches with all the effort he can muster, into the fog and through it, and gropes desperately for Sebastian's mind, pushing the fogginess into it. Sebastian wobbles, cursing indistinctly; he crashes to his knees and grabs at Charles again, snarling, "Stop that, you little -- unf!"

"Shut up," Erik snaps, and hits him again with the lamp as the bed starts to tilt. Sebastian flinches, Erik grunts, and Charles rolls off the bed as it rears up on its side; he lands in a heap on the floor, cheek against the carpet, listening through the wavering rush in his ears as the bed creaks, groans, and thuds down atop Sebastian, slamming him into unconsciousness.

"Oh, Charles, Charles." Erik runs across the overturned bed and scoops Charles up, hauling him into his arms. Charles still can't move, limp in Erik's hold; in fact, he's going under, his mind sinking into the pooling darkness. _Thanks,_ he manages to think, and _love_ and _my pants_ , and feels Erik's lips brush his temple as he passes out entirely.

* **** * 

When Charles wakes up he's in a crisp-sheeted hospital bed with an IV in his arm and Erik's hand wrapped around his. _Hey,_ he thinks fuzzily, still too leaden to speak. _Work?_

"Hi," Erik murmurs, squeezing his hand. "I've got the rest of the day off," is dry and blithe and patently a lie.

Charles opens his eyes. As soon as Erik's wry smile comes into focus he knows what happened, and groans. _Oh, no, I'm sorry._

Erik just smiles wider. "I have been informed that while the hotel is pleased to have assisted the authorities in apprehending Mr. Shaw, I am not a member of the ambulance service nor the police force, and am advised to seek other employment." Charles reaches out tentatively, the fogginess faded but not entirely gone, and finds that Erik's cheerful smile is entirely truthful. _Fuck them anyway,_ Erik thinks deliberately at him, and Charles starts to smile.

His mouth is cottony dry and his first try just makes him cough, but some statements deserve to be said aloud. "We can jobhunt together," Charles croaks out, "as roommates, after all."

Erik wraps both hands around Charles's, his eyes and smile shining, so radiant it's worth everything to see.


End file.
